Without Consequence﻿

Anna Geannopoulos​

They will tell you that you have a twin and not to worry because your twin is very good at pretending to be you. In fact, they will say, we have trained her specifically for the purpose of pretending to be you.

They will show you a picture of this twin, and you will laugh because you have a funny face and she has parted her hair in a way that makes it look terrible. She is making me look terrible, you will say, and they will say, it is essential that she look just like you.

They will say they have rescued you. We have removed your strings, they say – large smiles on their faces. The kind of smiles reserved for babies. And now you understand how terrifying it must be to be an infant. And you want to gather up all the smiles you gave to children and take them back.

We have taken your strings and put them on your twin. We have made little tiny knots so that no one suspects a thing. Your husband, your parents, your friends, your boss, the teenager at the grocery store check out, they have all accepted her threads without question or answer.

Without threads, they add, you can live outside of consequence.

We have listened to your dreams, they say, and made them come true.

They are inordinately pleased with themselves. They want to be thanked for their gift. They want to touch and feel all the parts of you that had been so close to consequence.

We have never had consequence they say, as they massage all of the tiny places on your skin where the invisible threads once tied you to the world. They take the frayed edges of the strings between their long fingers and lick them with their tongues. You have made things happen, they say, you have affected people, they say.

They are intoxicated by the potential you once possessed.

You let them touch you because you want to know if their touch is the same as the touch of consequence. But their caresses do not change you. This moment washes over you and leaves you intact.

You have never felt so solid. You have never felt so powerless. And it is so freeing that you want to peel back your skin layer by layer, grasp either side of your rib cage and tear it open so your innards can see how free they now are.

I have escaped, you will think, I have died without consequence. But you will be wrong. You are very much alive.

They will know what you are thinking because they know everything.

You are not dead, they will say, tenderly, gently, with great care they hardly knew they possessed. You now live in the spaces between molecules. In the dark matter. In the places where no one can touch. Behind mirrors, in reflections, in thoughts.

Who are you? You finally ask. And they will laugh, and laugh, and laugh, who aren’t we? They will respond.

And they will form three shadows, one with a loom, the other with a ruler, and the third with shears, and the three shadows will join to form a grandmother spider weaving a giant web and then they will have no shadow again and they will say, go, go, go, you are free now.

And you will spend the rest of your life in the space between, gazing out through mirrors into the life you once lived and from time to time you will see your twin looking back at you and together you will lock eyes and whisper, thank you, thank you, thank you, because she wanted to live as much as you could not.

Anna Geannopoulos is a writer and artist currently living in Portland, Oregon. You can see more of her work at annageannopoulos.com.